


Nothing to Write Home About

by MalikaiFlame



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Brain tumor, Cancer, Denial, Developing Relationship, Drug Withdrawal, Hiding Medical Issues, Hurt Klaus Hargreeves, Hurt/Comfort, I am not a doctor, M/M, Protective Diego Hargreeves, Protective Siblings, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Seizures, Sick Klaus Hargreeves, Sickfic, Terminal Illnesses, klaus will not die because that is unacceptable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-06-24 22:08:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19732738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalikaiFlame/pseuds/MalikaiFlame
Summary: Klaus has been hiding a devastating diagnosis from his siblings. When Diego finds out, they both have to confront feelings they would rather leave alone.Chapter titles are drawn from Third Star.





	1. To Whom It May Concern

Diego had long abandoned trying to impress anyone. Not that he hadn’t tried before. In fact, the first person had been his father, Reginald Hargreeves. The truth is, every child is born with an ingrained desire to be loved by their parents. Every child is built with an instinctual understanding that they are supposed to be loved. Begrudgingly, Diego would admit that. All of his siblings at some point had worked very hard to win the affections of their father, himself included. The other part of that truth, however, is that once children have been shown that they are worthless, meaningless, the “Plan B”, the “Number 2”… the back-up, so many times, a type of ambivalence is born out of a need to survive. Once children realize that being a “parent” does not mean being filled with unconditional love, that illusion is shattered. And while on the vein of telling truths, it is an illusion that cannot be repaired once broken.

The second and third person he had tried to impress were his birth parents. Because another truth about children is that they are childish. Hence, they believe in fairy tales. And like someone waiting in a tower to be discovered, Diego wondered if all he needed to do was meet the right person, or people. But Diego was never a fan of waiting. He made things happen. So he escaped the dragon’s captivity in search of something more. There had been a brief moment in time where he had convinced himself that if he were able to figure out who his birth parents were, he would be able to understand more about himself. However, all he learned from that quest was that there were three people who did not want him, and that adults who agree to take you somewhere only drop you off at the police station and get someone to take you back to where you came from. He had tried sending a letter, but he never heard anything back. This inevitably leads one to believe that they might be the issue, not everyone else. A pretty harsh lesson for a child to learn. So, instead of trying to pursue the nature of his lovability further, he chose to decide that he did not need to be loved at all.

And after he had thought he figured it out, Eudora Patch showed up. His desire to join the police force had been born out of two things. The first being to fight crime, but that was a bit of a by-product of the true incentive. His second, and more genuine reason, was to give a big “fuck you” to his father. In fact, Diego found a lot of silent pleasure knowing that his father was keeping tabs on him, knowing that someone else was reaping all the benefits and praise of the training he had forced upon Diego. This had been the agenda, but on his first day at the police academy, an intense, yet charming, force by the name of Eudora had confronted him at the end of class to tell him that if he was going to ignore the lecturer the entire time, he might as well sit in the back of the room and let people who were actual there to learn sit up front. Despite swearing off companionship, he had found himself in her company rather frequently. But even that broke apart when Diego was kicked out of the police academy. 

You were never truly able to live your life if you constantly looked to someone else to tell you how to live it. 

He tried to apply this logic to his siblings and had been mostly successful. They had all broken apart and made their own lives for themselves. Which Diego now, as an adult, found hypocritical, because they had all realized the true nature of their father, and they had all had the precious illusion shattered, but it just took them longer than it did for him. But since he had realized this first, and had been the first to pull away, he was branded the asshole. 

Among all of his siblings though, Klaus stuck around. He saw Klaus rather frequently, but mostly on the streets. Klaus also had a certain delusion that Diego’s back room at Al’s was a motel that he could crash at every once in awhile. Diego would never admit this to himself, but there might be a small part of him that appreciated being needed by at least someone. He also may have liked the company, even if he would never show it. So maybe Klaus wasn’t entirely delusional. But he had to be at a distance, because distance was safer. However, despite what Diego may tell himself, he must have been paying more attention to his brother than he thought, because he did know his brother’s patterns and unconsciously found himself looking for Klaus when their paths should be crossing. 

That’s what today was. Tuesdays were Klaus’ days in the park area. Diego flipped his left turn signal and checked his mirror to see if he was clear. He knew he wasn’t a cop, but there was something soothing about a patrol, even if it was self-created. In the back of his mind, he knew that Klaus should be nearby. Typically, Klaus would find him first. Like a stray cat, he seemed to have grown accustomed to being fed and seemed to have an acute sense of when a meal was nearby. Usually Klaus would smack the driver’s side window and cackle when Diego jumped before sliding into the car. It was an action Diego yelled at him for every time, but there was a part of both of them that secretly enjoyed it.

Diego side-eyed the styrofoam box that sat in the passenger's seat next to him. It contained some waffles leftover from his breakfast and he was planning on giving them to his brother. Whether this was really because he wasn’t feeling particularly hungry this morning, or that he was looking forward to seeing Klaus, Diego refused to analyze. Instead, Diego cleared the turn and started scanning the area.

After a few minutes, Diego parked next to a rather unnecessary fountain with three mermaids spewing water from their hands. He had never really understood the appeal of it, but it was an easily identifiable landmark and he and Klaus had created an unspoken agreement that it was were they should touch base. It also reminded Diego of when they were kids and would buy time playing in it when they weren't particularly keen on returning to the Academy. He shifted gears into park and let himself lean back into the seat for a few moments.

Some time passed, and Diego’s eyes wandered to the clock on his dashboard. Ten minutes… Seemed odd, but nothing to be too worried about. Maybe Klaus was running late. It wasn’t like his brother was known for his reliability. Pushing the bristle of unease aside, Diego decided to loop around the block a few times to give Klaus a little more time to show up. It was practical, and nothing he wouldn’t do anyway, he reasoned. Diego pretended to keep himself busy watching other people, keeping an eye out for any sign of trouble. But still, twenty more minutes passed and the bristling in his stomach grew into prodding. Diego had already been running a little behind when he arrived at the park. Klaus should be here.

“You are not allowed to panic.” Diego muttered under his breath. “He’s just late.”

He didn’t know quite who he was putting on the show for. He was the only one in the car.

The drumming he had been doing on the steering wheel started to pick up and Diego decided he couldn’t sit anymore. He was getting agitated. And besides, maybe Klaus would find him better if he wasn’t in his car. Diego refused to recognize the fact that Klaus had never had a problem identifying his car before and instead sharply swerved into the next lane to get into the closest parking spot he saw, cutting some guy off and earning himself a rather foul string of phrases. Diego ignored him, his mind wholly occupied by his brother’s whereabouts, not that he was panicking or anything. But his body was much more inclined to be truthful, and despite his rather intentional slow breathing, the pounding in his chest fought against him. Klaus was supposed to be here.

In his hurry, Diego tripped slightly when the street became sidewalk. Ignoring the people who gave him dirty looks as he pushed past them, Diego started to systematically check the alleys one by one. His instincts kicking into action as his anxiety continued to rise. Besides, Klaus had developed a frequent, and rather disgusting, habit where he would spring up out of some dumpster covered in trash, but gleaming, as if what he had found there was worth the condition he found himself in. Diego hated it, because Klaus would still help himself to a seat in his car and leave it smelling horribly when he left. It wasn’t uncommon for him to find a wrapper of some kind even a few days afterwards. But now, Diego would pay to see that dishevelled head pop out.

The moment Diego saw Klaus’ legs peeking out from behind a fire escape, his heart skipped a beat, both from the freefall of relief and the grip of fear. 

“Klaus, come on, what are you doing?” Diego yelled ahead, scolding lightly. He tried to ignore the rapid pulse that had made its way to his ears. “You’ve made me late for work. Lets go.”

Klaus still didn’t move. 

Diego’s body screamed at him.

Cold dread coiled around his heart as Klaus came into full view. The first thing that registered was the bile Klaus was laying in, small bits still clinging to the sides of his blue-tinted lips. Diego fell to the ground next to his brother, his mind instantly becoming hazy. His hands roamed desperately as his mind first tried to process what was happening, and second tried to figure out what he was supposed to do. Any other moment, Diego would be able to perform all the correct steps, and with a coolness that had become his trademark, but panic was making him blind. He padded his brother’s torso, before reaching to cup his face. Diego knew he was rambling, words streaming mindlessly from his mouth, but he could neither hear nor comprehend his own thoughts. 

He had never really thought this day would ever come. When Klaus’ addiction took him too far.

“Kl.... hm… Klau… shm.” Diego almost slapped himself, recognizing that stupid stutter. As if on autopilot, as if every crime show he had ever watched was suddenly all he could remember, his finger found its way to Klaus’ neck. People always checked for a pulse, right? To see if someone was…

_ No. Nope. _

Diego exiled the thought as if it were poison. As if thinking about the possibility of Klaus being dead would bring it to be. His hands shaking violently, he placed two fingers gently underneath his brother’s jawbone, his breath quivering as he tried to get himself under control. The logical side of his mind knew that succumbing to his terror would do nothing to help Klaus, but the other side of him was a part that he had refused to acknowledge for so long that it attacked with such malice. The side of him that cared and loved his brother. And when it is neglected, when you don’t create a shield against it, it can attack with a force that leaves you paralyzed.

Diego closed his eyes, using every ounce of control he had over himself to make his mind shut up. Blocking out his surroundings, Diego solely focused on the sensation from his fingers. As if everything around him dissipated and his world solely revolved around the beating of someone else’s heart. 

Nothing.

“Come on!” Diego snarled, readjusting himself so that he was even closer to his brother. 

A faint beat flirted against his fingers.

Diego froze, afraid to believe it. The walls in his mind grew higher still as he refused to let a wave of relief flood his senses. With his breath stuck in his throat, Diego waited. He refused to move, as if he was afraid that such an action would scare it off. His body twisted, wanting to do anything but be still. All of his other senses were ringing, rendered obsolete by the dread coursing through him. He only had this. There was only this.

There it was. A delicate tap reached for him, as if it had fought all the way to the surface and was giving all it had left. A desperate cry.

A choked sob escaped Diego’s lips.

Without a second thought, he wrapped his arms underneath Klaus’ legs, hoisting him up. The weightlessness of his brother carried the weight of the world as Diego got him as quickly as he could to the car. Minding Klaus’ head, Diego got him into the passenger’s seat and secured the seatbelt. Klaus’ head fell to the side lifeless, but Diego knew he heard quiet moan.

“It’s okay, Klaus. You’re okay.” Diego breathed, his words reassuring, his tone anything but. “I’m g… getting help.”

Klaus made another feeble noise and his eyes fluttered slightly, jolting another surge through Diego. He nicked his hip as he flung his own door open. Neglecting his own seatbelt, Diego sped out onto the street, earning a slew of honks. However, the only thing he was able to register was the gaunt, lifeless presence next to him, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. Help was only a few minutes away, and Klaus was going to make it there. 

That was the only option.


	2. I Raise a Morphine Toast to You All

_ Beep… Beep… Beep… _

Diego never did like hospitals.

He sighed, settled deeper into his chair, and watched Klaus play with the heart monitor on his finger. Still shaken, Diego tried again to reason that this wasn’t the first time he had found Klaus passed out in a back alley, but something stirred in him everytime he tried to calm himself with that fact. Because despite that, it was one of the few times he found himself in a hospital over it. Due to the nature of their superhero profession, the Hargreeves had been frequent customers starting at quite a young age. At least they were for a while, until Reginald eventually told them that they, specifically Klaus, should always be brought straight to the Academy first. His bills were getting too expensive. 

_ A lovely notion. _ Diego thought bitterly.  _ Why save your kid when you can save a buck, right?  _

Even now, he wasn’t sure why the hospital was his first thought… Maybe because it was closer. He trusted Mom with anything and everything, and he knew that she would be able to bring Klaus back. Hell, she had done it many times before. Diego felt bad admitting it, but Klaus had made himself sick over drugs so often that they had all become fairly used to it by now. It wasn’t uncommon to find Klaus black-out drunk or babbling on some high. This time though… the instincts that had been trained into Diego since birth had been screaming. 

He could never let anyone see him that scared. That vulnerable. And now, he felt like he was finally able to relax, just a little, since Klaus had woken up. That, however, brought on its own set of disturbances.

_ BEEP! BEEP! Beep… Beep… Beep BEEP! _

Diego bit his tongue, watching as Klaus clamped and unclamped the monitor, making the pale green computer briefly flash “Low Heart Rate” warnings before disappearing when Klaus put the monitor back on. In classic Klaus fashion, he didn’t seem to have any awareness of how annoying he was being. Instead, he stared intently at the screen his monitor was attached to, biting his lip in concentration.

Diego had been tempted to stay in the Emergency Room’s waiting area when they took Klaus back, knowing that there would be needles involved. IVs injected… Just the thought alone almost had Diego requiring medical attention himself. Even now, Diego refused to look at Klaus’ wrist, where he knew Klaus was hooked up. In the whirlwind of activity that erupted upon entering the ER, Diego had two conflicting thoughts: “Stay as far away from the medical devices as possible” and “Stay with Klaus.” However, he was now rethinking his decision to go back with his brother. He was starting to get a headache.

_ Beep… Beep... Beep… BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! _

Any time Klaus shifted, the paper underneath him crinkled. It seemed almost on purpose. Like the hospital board intentionally sought out the loudest, most obnoxious paper they could find. As if it was a test of the mind. How long could a person last in the same room as that damn paper? In Diego’s case, the answer was “Not Long.”

_ Beep… BEEP! BEEP! Beep... _

“Klaus, can you not?” Diego finally snapped.

“I’m trying to work, Diego” Klaus lilted back, not missing a beat. “Thought you might recognize ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’ when you hear it.”

“I wish you were still passed out.” Diego muttered, which made Klaus grin.

There was a short knock on the door and a middle-aged man walked in. Diego tensed, instantly sizing the stranger up. Klaus rolled his eyes, as if finding Diego’s defensiveness childish. Diego eased back down. The man was very average and completely unassuming anyway, in Diego’s opinion.

“Wasn’t expecting to see you back so soon, Mr. Hargreeves.” The doctor started nonchalantly, gazing up from his clipboard. He stopped short when he noticed Diego. “Oh…”

A tense silence fell over the three of them. Diego sat up in his chair, shifting his glare between the doctor and his brother, the gravity of those words slowly sinking in. Klaus looked anywhere but back at him and the doctor pretended to be examining the papers on his clipboard. The doctor spared a desperate glance at Klaus, as if asking him what he should do.

“So  _ soon _ ?” Diego hissed, his eyes drilling into Klaus, who was adamantly ignoring him.

“Hey, doc.” Klaus pressed on. “I was missing your handsome mug and just had to find my way back here.”

The doctor afforded Klaus a half-hearted chuckle before anxiously shifting his gaze back to Diego, who was fuming by this point.

“Klaus! What does he mean ‘ _ So soon? _ ’” 

Klaus gave Diego an exasperated look. “Not. Right. Now.”

“Um…” the doctor started nervously, looking at Klaus. “Should I keep going?”

“You better.” Diego threatened.

“I believe the question was directed at ME, Diego.” Klaus quipped. “Dr. Piper is MY doctor. I’m the one with the needle in my arm.”

It worked like a charm. Diego suddenly felt woozy and slid back down into his chair. “That’s a cheap shot and you know it.” he grumbled.

Klaus stuck out his tongue, then instantly brought a smile to his face as he returned his attention back to the doctor.

“You can go ahead, Dr. Piper.” 

“It says you were originally brought in here today for a potential overdose. We ran a couple of tests and checked your levels and, although alarming, may I say…” Dr. Piper took a moment to give Klaus a disapproving look; then continued, “that is not what brought you here today.”

Diego sat stiffly, waiting. Dr. Piper cleared his throat.

“It was the… other thing.”

“Yeah. I think I do want him to leave the room.” Klaus interrupted. “There’s that privacy rule, isn’t there?”

“What  _ ‘other thing’ _ Klaus?” Diego could hear his voice rising, himself starting to lose control.

“I’m sorry.” Dr. Piper paused and shuffled through his charts again, stopping to read briefly, “It says the name you gave when you arrived is ‘Diego.’ You are Diego Hargreeves, right? Klaus’ emergency contact?”

Diego took a moment to process that, but the fact that Klaus started to blush did not escape his notice.

“Um… sure.” Diego stuttered.

“So you’ve been driving him home after his treatments?”

Diego sat there with his mouth hanging open. He knew he probably looked like an idiot, but everything seemed to be hitting him at once. Dumbfounded, Diego stared at the doctor.  _ Treatments? _

Apparently Diego’s reaction was enough of an answer. Anger contorted the doctor’s face as he whirled to address Klaus.

“Why doesn’t he know what’s going on?”

Klaus remained silent.

“Then who's been taking you home after your procedures?” he pressed. “Who’s been signing you out?”

Klaus muttered something under his breath.

“What?”

“Just an Uber.” Klaus muttered again, only slightly louder this time.

“KLAUS!” Diego and Dr. Piper shouted in unison.

“You do realize I’m making a note in your file, yes? And your emergency contact will now need to provide the correct identification upon arrival.” Dr. Piper reprimanded. “But more than that Klaus, it’s  _ reckless!  _ There’s a reason we require someone you know takes you home!”

“Okay. I get it. Slap on the wrist for me.” Klaus cut-off. “Can I just get my meds and go?”

Dr. Piper pinched the bridge of his nose and held out a small white cup. When Klaus reached out to take it from him, the doctor pulled it back, “With your brother. From now on.” 

Klaus made a sour face and curtly nodded his head, holding out his hand expectantly. With a stern look, Dr. Piper placed them in his palm. He then held the morphine pills up and winked at Diego.

“Cheers, mate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today is a big day! It is my roommate and my's cat's first "Gottcha Day," so we've officially had him for a year! I'm also getting my nose pierced today, so I'm nervous and excited. 
> 
> I decided to post a day early to celebrate. I am very much ahead of schedule writing-wise and can't wait to share with you all. Enjoy!


	3. And Should You Remember

_ Oligodendroglioma. _

Diego gripped the steering wheel harder, trying to ground himself amongst the words that were swimming through his mind. Trying to keep himself afloat.

“ _ … occurs in men more often than not, and typically between the ages 20-40. In the frontal or temporal lobes.” _

Klaus wouldn’t look at him. In fact, he looked just as pissed as Diego felt. Neither of them spoke, letting silence fill the space between them as they drove back to the Academy.

_ “In oligodendrocytes, which support and insulate axons in CNS, sorry Mr. Hargreeves, the Central Nervous System.” _

This wasn’t something Diego was prepared for. He was no stranger to conflict. In fact, a part of him relished a good fight. Spending time at Al’s boxing company only lead to an increase in his sparring abilities and, as much as he hated Reginald, he had been raised efficiently for combat. And the fight was something he enjoyed perhaps more than he wanted to admit. Even after his rejection at the police academy, he trained and worked himself, ironing out any chinks in his armor. 

And he was almost successful, because as much as he hated to recognize it, he did have a weak spot. His family, as intolerable as they all were. Especially Klaus. Objectively, out of all of his siblings, Vanya was the most vulnerable, but Klaus was a different form of vulnerability. The kind that was careless. Diego grew up hearing of tales of Achilles and his infamous heel, but never until this point had he recognized the damage that his own could wreak. One stupid diagnosis, and now all of his training, all of his conditioning, all of his defenses… He was unravelling before his own eyes.

_ “Identified by deficiencies in chromosomes named 1p and 19q. Unfortunately, in this case, the 1p is intact with no TP53 mutation.” _

_ What the hell does that even  _ mean _? _

_ “Your brother’s case is, and I wish this could be said more tactfully, abnormally aggressive for this type of tumor…” _

_ Diego could feel his heart seizing. _

_ “… the median survival is 16 months.” _

_ Diego understood what _ that _ meant. _ _ This wasn’t an enemy he could fight. _

Diego smacked the stirring in front of him at the thought.

“Woah. Calm down there, Diego. The car didn’t give me cancer.” Klaus said lazily, his feet still propped up on the dashboard in front of him.

“That’s not funny, Klaus” Diego bit back.

“Oh no? I thought I got to decide what is and isn’t funny because it’s happening to me.” Klaus responded, feigning indifference. Although Diego could hear the agitation in his brother’s voice building.

“How long have you known?”

Klaus still didn’t look at him. “Since I knew something was wrong, or since I went to the doctor?”

Diego didn’t like what that question implied. “You went to the doctor.” he snapped.

“3 months.”

_ Median survival is 16 months, get rid of the three…  _

Diego started seeing red, but he took a deep breath. At least Klaus was talking.

“And since something was wrong?”

Klaus gained a sudden and intense interest in picking small scraps off of his pants, a red hue forming in his cheeks.

“… Real answer, or one that won’t make you hit me?” Klaus whispered. His brother’s laissez faire demeanor was starting to break and Diego could see it.

Diego refused to answer. Instead he glared until Klaus sighed.

“Six months.”

The car screamed out as Diego slammed the brakes, making both himself and Klaus fly forward before their seatbelts caught them both and threw them back. They both caught their breath until Diego finally spoke.

_ “Six months?”  _ he fumed.

Klaus flinched slightly, “I was going to tell you all…”

“ _ When _ ?” Diego barked, his knuckles turning white. He knew he was screaming at this point, but he couldn’t rein it in. “That’s not fair, Klaus!”

“No, Diego! You know what isn’t fair?” Klaus shouted, taking the offensive. “What’s not fair is that I have a FUCKING tumor! What’s not fair is that I’ve lived my whole fucking life afraid of the dead and I’m going to be fucking joining them before I’m out of my 30’s!”

That stopped Diego short. The lines upon lines that Diego had prepared to fire back at his brother immediately dissipated at the thought. That absolutely unacceptable thought.

Silence.

“Can you just roll the window down. please?” Klaus sighed. The anger had passed through them both, leaving heartache in its wake. “And take the corners slow. Kinda have a headache.”

Diego reached for the window controls. He used the moment to casually wipe the tears that were stinging his eyes. “Sure.” his voice strained, trying to sound casual. 

Neither of them spoke for the rest of the ride. After a few minutes, Diego risked a look at his brother. Out of the corner of his eye, Diego watched Klaus rub his forehead, wincing as he did so. Exhausted, Klaus let his head fall back onto the window frame and took a deep breath. The air brushed gently through his brother’s hair, and Diego watched as his chest rose and fell, and for the first time, imagining if it were to stop doing so. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO much research went into this chapter. Before I even started writing this fic, I studied various types of brain tumors, ages, treatments, symptoms, etc. That being said, I'm not a medical professional and there are probably holes in my understanding of these things. I'm doing my best though!
> 
> I'm hard at work on this fic and I am having so much fun working on it. I have the document open every single day! I can't wait to share upcoming chapters.


	4. It's the Anniversary of My Birth

Once Diego found out, it was essentially impossible to keep it a secret. Klaus had always known that telling one of his siblings meant telling all of them, which was why he had hidden it for as long as he could. Of course it had scared him, being alone with his diagnosis, especially when there had been some close calls because, even though all those looks of pity seemed intolerable, they sure as hell looked quite a bit nicer when an incoming seizure loomed over him and it was just him. 

It was always small, the shoreline receding before a giant wave. It could start with a strange smell. Something out of place. Klaus would be in a grocery store and smell fireworks. But if you’re already smelling something, you’re already at the point where you can’t do anything about it. Or it could start in his fingers. They would feel fuzzy, like cotton, and when he touched something, it felt like he was passing through it, the dullness reaching back. Or there could a taste. His mouth would suddenly and inexplicably be filled with the flavor of pennies. But as he now understood, by the time you notice these things, the only thing you have time to do is wish that someone was there with you, and there wouldn’t be. You have seconds, maybe minutes if you’re lucky, and Klaus quickly learned that there is no fear more potent than knowing something is coming, and that there is no time to get out of its way. 

But yes, that meant there had to be a trade-off. His siblings had grown merciless in their sympathy and Klaus couldn’t stand it. Sure, it was nice when a vicious wave of nausea attacked at the kitchen table to have someone who could teleport him to the nearest toilet. Sure, it was nice to have a Hulk of a sibling who could literally carry him bridal style if he got too weak to make it up the stairs. Sure, it was nice to know that someone was always there to have his back, but to  _ always _ have someone there? What was worse than the constant surveillance and the sympathetic side glances were the concessions. They were so  _ nice _ all the time and it was like he couldn’t do anything wrong. Sometimes Klaus would do something solely for the sake of pushing someone’s buttons, but they all just let him. The “younger sibling syndrome” in him missed getting called out for his crap. He felt like the rest of the time he was going to have with his siblings were going to be fake. A big lie born out of pity. 

So this was the decision he had to make: dying without acknowledgement or dying without authenticity.

  
\--------  


Honestly, it felt routine at this point. Wake up. Throw up. Diego’s up.

Klaus would stay up late into the night distracting himself. He wrung every minute he could get out of the nights, dreading the mornings and the idea that he would have to make it through another day. He would keep the lights on and knit, trying to keep his eyes open. He had even picked up reading, and reading out loud, which he did standing up because he dozed off otherwise. But, of course, Klaus would have to reluctantly concede to the siren call of his bed, when the words started to blur on the pages. After a smoke and a few hours of tossing and turning, he would sleep. The smoke to distract himself from feeling the occasional pressure in his head, whether phantom pain, placebo, or the real thing. The tossing and turning because he knew that he was fooling himself. 

**Wake up.**

Klaus waited to open his eyes. It had been a rare night without any voices from the beyond, and he didn’t want to ruin it by letting the light in. That’s when the nausea would start, and he only needed a few more moments. There had not been a single whisper, or even a tiny little screech. Nothing. Klaus gave credit to the exceptionally strong blunt he had indulged in before meandering off to his room. 

That first night, when they returned from the hospital, Diego had looked at him incredulously. Klaus smiled slightly at the memory.

_ “Aren’t you not supposed to do that stuff with your meds?” _

_ “I’m an expert at making drug cocktails at this point, brother dearest.” Klaus smirked, “Or did you forget who I am?” _

**Throw up.**

The first stop of every morning: the bathroom. Through the burning in Klaus’ throat and the strain in his gut, Klaus hunched back over for another wave of bile. His body seized as his stomach ripped at him from inside, forcing impossibly more to come out of his body. With his body so focused on throwing up, it seemed that only his mind remembered he needed to breath. Panic still filled him every time, even though he knew it would pass. Gripping the sides of the seat, Klaus rode the spazzing out until he was able to be in control again, sneaking quick, sharp gasps between the waves, the lining of his throat burning with each intake. Forcing the air into his lungs, his breath shaking as it came out, he tried to ignore the sour taste in his mouth.

A current of comfort washed over him as he registered a familiar touch. He didn’t have to look to see who it was. Gentle fingers brushed hair out of his face and took care in gathering the remaining strands. Klaus tried to focus on the circles being rubbed between his shoulder blades. He heard a voice, but he couldn’t understand what was being said. 

**Diego’s up.**

“I thought the drugs were supposed to get rid of ghosts.” Klaus choked halfheartedly, his head barely emerging from the toilet. “You’re making me jumpy.” 

He knew it was childish, but Klaus always felt it necessary to hide his relief when Diego appeared.

“Someone has to keep an eye on you.” Diego quipped, reaching for the handle and flushing the toilet for him. Thankfully, Diego agreed that emotional vulnerability was unappealing, so neither of them said anything as they watched the mixture swirl away.

They stayed there for awhile longer, waiting to see if Klaus would have a go again. There were a few false alarms, Klaus thrusting himself forward, Diego stiffening beside him, but those just ended in dry heaving. There was nothing left to come up. Once the coast was clear, Klaus leaned into Diego’s hold, relaxing slightly, and Diego let him, pretending not to notice. With one hand, Diego grabbed a washcloth from the sink and poured cold water over it until it was drenched and wrung it out. Gently, and in a way that was very un-Diego-like, he dabbed the back of Klaus’ neck, the calming effect instant, despite his body still trembling with adrenaline.

“You okay now?” Diego asked.

“Yeah. I think so.” Klaus rasped.

Diego awkwardly gave Klaus’ back a pat. It landed somewhere between endearing and embarrassing where the intention was to be comforting. Klaus watched his brother get up and head back to his own room from his peripherals. 

“What did you say earlier?” Klaus called after his brother. “I was a bit preoccupied with my head in a toilet bowl and they aren’t known for their great surround sound.”

“I said ‘Happy birthday.’” Diego shouted back as he threw a dry hand towel to Klaus, feigning ambivalence. Klaus took a moment to look himself over in the mirror. He looked awful.

_ Shit. _

  
\--------  


Klaus’ reflection would have unsettled him if he hadn’t been so used to it by now. His makeup from the night before had smeared. Both from the fact that he had spent the last few minutes with his head in a toilet, but also that he had not cared to take it off the night before. Turning to the side, he examined a little closer. His eye liner, which had been haphazardly applied in the first place, was now blotchy and the eyeshadow had caked into the folds of his eyelids. The undersides of his eyes had donned a purple look, making them appear sunken, which Klaus aggressively chose to believe was due to the neglected cosmetics and not because of another, more medical reason. There was a faint track on one of his cheeks, which had been made by the tears brought on by the onslaught of vomiting.

Klaus only cared to spare a moment to run his hands through his hair, throw a toothbrush in his mouth, and use a damp towel to wipe his face. After a few moments, he did genuinely think he looked better. Presentable enough for his siblings, at least, but if he thought he felt like shit before, he had another thing coming.

Turning the corner into the kitchen, Klaus expected the usual. Mom humming and making breakfast, maybe one or two of his siblings grazing and perhaps making light conversation. Not this though. 

It seemed almost posed. They were all there, bordered by a few balloons. And worst of all, a cake. Never, in the history of the Hargreeves family, had there been a cake. 

Correction. One time there had been a cake, if it could be called that. 

On their eleventh birthday, Klaus and Vanya had attempted to make their own from scratch. It had been Klaus’ idea and none of his other siblings had wanted to do it with him, except Vanya. Looking back, Vanya was probably just excited to be included, regardless of what the activity was. 

Neither of them were bakers in any sense of the word and, in some form or another, more of the ingredients had ended up outside of the mixing bowl than in it, leaving the kitchen a horrific mess. Klaus and Vanya had reread the directions over and over again, turning the oven dial just perfectly to the correct degree and setting the timer multiple times, just to make sure it was right. When the alarm went off, they had felt victorious. At first, the middle had been too raw, so they put it in again. The second time, the bottom had overcooked, spreading a faint stench of smoke throughout the kitchen. To everyone else the cake may have seemed underwhelming, or perhaps vaguely threatening, but to the two of them it was perfect. They went around the house, delivering overbaked, lumpy slices to each of their siblings. And sure, maybe their siblings had just thrown the piece away once they left, but at least they were nice enough to appear appreciative. Together, they went to Reginald’s study, the final slice plated carefully. Vanya backed off a little, leaving the talking to Klaus. Reginald had taken one look at it, stood up, and silently walked out; grabbing one of each of their arms roughly. Klaus remembered being terrified, knowing what their father was going to walk into. Reginald stopped in the kitchen, quietly looking around, his cold eyes betraying nothing. His grip, on the other hand, became tighter, like a snake coiling around its prey. He never said anything, though. Only released their arms and told them to go to their rooms. Klaus and Vanya made a dash for their rooms the moment they were out of their father’s line of sight, and frankly, they had been afraid to leave their rooms for the rest of the day.

So yeah. One time there had been cake.

Vanya wouldn’t look at him now, her gaze downcast. Luther’s lips were stretched thin in an attempt to smile, and a part of Klaus really respected the effort. His face wasn’t used to the strain. Must be a workout, no doubt. Five looked bored, trying to appear invested, but his attention clearly elsewhere. Allison had a genuine smile, but Klaus could read her eyes, which were full of pity. All of their eyes, frankly, were full of pity and it was burning into him. Diego stood there, arms crossed over his chest, as if he were able to protect himself from the unbearable situation they all found themselves in.

He and his siblings’ birthdays had always been a bleak affair. This time, unfortunately, seemed to be an exception, which only managed to make it even more bleak.

“You kind of look awful.” Five finally spoke, breaking the silence and mincing no words. Allison slapped his shoulder.

“Consider yourself lucky that I didn’t come down in just my birthday suit.” Klaus countered, ignoring the birthday decorations and going straight for an apple on the table. He was already planning his escape and making his way towards the exit. This was not going to happen today.

“Wait!” Allison blurted. 

Bracing himself, Klaus pivoted back and raised an eyebrow at his sister, almost daring her to continue. 

“Do um…” Allison blushed slightly and looked away from him. “Do you want a slice before you go?”

“Well, it’s not just mine.” Klaus replied, trying to sound detached. 

Allison nodded her head, admitting that that was true. She stiffly reached for a knife and started to cut the cake into slices and plating them. Luther grabbed a plate and was shortly followed by Vanya. No one made a move to eat it, however. Klaus imagined that they had all lost their appetites. He knew he had. 

“Okay. Enough of this.” Klaus snapped, breaking the act. “Why is this happening?”

He knew why of course. Because he was fucking dying. But if they were going to make him suffer through this show, he was going to make them miserable too. Make them work for it. None of them said anything though, and he wasn’t about to either. So no one said anything, which was fine with him. 

“Yeah. Okay. Good work, team!” 

Klaus left before anyone had another chance. 

He barely made it to the stairs before he was stopped.

“Hey!”

Klaus turned and automatically noticed two things. First, he saw an object flying in his direction, which he instinctively caught. Second, he saw Diego in the entry of the kitchen, having thrown the object. Klaus looked down at his hands. A small dusting of chalk came off on his hands as he shifted the object between them. The ball had a faint aroma coming off of it too. A bath bomb. A smile played across Klaus’ lips. He tried to decide if he should let it go and just accept the gift, but a big part of him wanted to make a big deal about it, knowing how much Diego would hate it.

“Thanks.”

Diego’s only responded with a mumbled “Don’t worry about it” and walked away. Klaus’ small smirk broke out into a full-on grin. 

_ Emotionally constipated as always _ . 

Tossing the bath bomb into the air, he decided it would be a waste not to use it and decided to get some hot water going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been workshopping this chapter FOREVER and I finally decided that it is as good as it's going to get! I feel like it's still a little off, but we are on a schedule, people! I hope everyone's week has been well and I'm excited to share this next chapter with you. Again, thank you for your comments and kudos! I thrive on external validation.


	5. Remember That You Were Loved by Me

In the Merriam-Webster dictionary, under the word “sanctuary,” there are two definitions. The first being “a consecrated place such as… the room in which general worship services are held.” The second being “a place of refuge and protection.” And, while a lot of Klaus’ time in this space had been spent praying for rescue, for reprieve, for quiet; the only quiet Klaus had ever received was from the one who was supposed to hear him. The wine of communion had long been consumed with a pass on the forgiveness of sin and Klaus became disillusioned with the mythology of a god long ago. In the Academy, there was room for only one higher power, and that position was aptly filled by their father.

This being said, Klaus would still call his bathroom his sanctuary. The second definition ran fairly true. For “a place of refuge and protection” could be found nowhere on this earth but in the isolation found within those four tiled walls. As soon as Klaus was able to lock the door behind him, he knew he would be able to shut the world out, if only for a few moments. It was the only place where he was able to call intermission on his theatrics. The only place where someone wasn’t expecting him to fall apart at any moment. The only place where looks of concern weren’t laced with disappointment. The thunderous stream of water coming from the tub’s faucet set a white noise that drowned out all the torturous voices in his head, both those of the dead and those of his own making. The steam coming off creating a warm comfort surrounding him even before he stepped in. Leaning on the sink, he let his shoulders sag. Yes, “a place of refuge and protection” sounded about right.

Diego had good taste. The bath bomb smelled nice. Klaus put his headphones in, creating the final seal to separate himself from the outside world. Shamir always knew how to treat him right. “On the Regular” filled his mind as he sunk deeper into the warm water, the upbeat sound transporting him to a place where he was finally able to let himself go.

_ You could get five fingers and I'm not waving "hi" _

_ Guess I'm never-ending, you could call me pi. _

Setting the MP3 player on the edge of the tub, Klaus tapped his fingers to the beat. He closed his eyes and continued to turn the volume up, knowing that he was probably ruining his eardrums with the abuse. But it made the song sound better.

_ Haters get the bird, more like an eagle _

_ This is my movie, stay tuned for the sequel _

Klaus focused on the surface of the water, inching himself further and further into its embrace. Carefully, he tried to see how closely he could get his face into the water without his eyes or nose going under. He paused as the water tickled at his ears, making sure to not let the headphones get wet.

_ This is me on the regular so you know _

_I come with the tip, with the blow, with the boom_

He felt the cool stream of air leaving his lungs. The air rushing back in as his chest developed an easier rhythm. He remembered reading about progressive muscle relaxation practices. It had come from some self-help book he had found on a shelf during that new age trend. Essential oils, meditation,  _ natural _ remedies. Of course, Klaus prefered just popping in a pill or two, but he was open to entertaining the notion. Pick an area of the body, tense for five seconds, relax for 30. Klaus had been skeptical at first, but it had started to seem effective recently.

_Never see the sun cause I'm up all night (what?)_

_ You want to talk shit but you know that I am illy? _

His grip on the sides began to loosen as he let himself relax.

__

_Illy to the fullest_

__  


He chuckled at the lyrics.

_This is me on the regular, so you know_

There was a weird taste in his mouth.

__

_This is me on the regular, so you know_

__  


He was...

__

_This is me on the regular, so you know_

__  


He…

__

_This is me on the regular_

__  


The attack came out of nowhere. Fingers latched onto his arms, digging in. There were hands all over him. His lungs began to burn, the sacred scraps of air left within him wasted in panic as he cried out. He kicked and punched blindly at the phantom grips, which just crushed his wrists and blocked every blow. Terrified, Klaus tried to grasp onto the side of the tub for purchase, but his body wasn’t listening. The surface was gone. Blood pounded behind his eyes. The hands were going to kill him. Gasping, more water rushed into his lungs. He could feel his reason slipping further and further away as fear blurred his mind. Using the last bit of his strength, Klaus opened his eyes. It was yellow. There was ringing. Then black. He was floating. Then pure white.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“KLAUS! Breathe!”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The first thing that registered was the music.

_ Track 5? When did that happen? _

“Come on, Klaus!”

Klaus tried to make a noise, his entire consciousness still reeling. He attempted to take a deep breath, which only triggered a wave of nausea. Klaus groaned as a stream of water forced its way out of his mouth and his throat burned as he coughed, feeling like agitated sandpaper. Too tired to form words, Klaus just sighed. Shivering, it slowly began to dawn on him that he was on the floor, the cold tile cooling his skin. He tried to open his eyes, but all he could make out were blotches and his eyelids felt back down, too heavy to keep open. His shaking picked up, the involuntary spasms becoming more violent. A towel covered him, and Klaus clung to it, his fingers lacing around the edges. There was a voice too, an air of concern laced in the words, but he couldn’t make out what it was saying.

Curling into himself, Klaus stayed there and tried to give himself time to regain his senses. He tried to hold onto a thought, any thought that came to him, but his mind felt like it was full of holes, unable to keep anything. He could feel hands pushing hair out of his face and he tried to brush them away but his body felt cemented onto the floor, some unseeable force locking him to the ground. The hands then lifted his head and put something soft underneath him. He cried out softly, but didn’t fight them, his panic subsiding to exhaustion. 

After what seemed like an eternity, Klaus tried to open his eyes again. This time, he was able to recognize where he was. His bathroom. Oddly enough, the first thing he noticed was the mirror, still covered in steam. He looked to the ceiling, which seemed a lot farther away from the floor. He took a tentative, shaky breath, afraid of starting another fit of coughing. There was a warm pressure on his shoulder. Carefully, he registered a hand. Horror seized him as he remembered the hands forcing him deeper into the water. Silently, he looked from the hand to the arm, following the path until his sights landed on Diego. The hands belonged to Diego.

Anger coursed through him.

“Diego.... What the hell?” Klaus rasped. He tried to sit up, but his vision began to blur again and he crashed back to the ground. But Diego was quick and caught him before he made impact. Gently, he was laid back down. Embarrassed at his helplessness, Klaus refused to look at his brother. He needed a few moments to push back the nausea before he tried to speak again. “What’s going on?”

Diego didn’t say anything, but Klaus was growing more and more aware of his surroundings by the second and he could tell Diego was shaking too. His eyes, usually steeled and giving nothing away, were flooded with emotion despite his stoic demeanor. It scared Klaus when he realized it was terror.

“It was a seizure.” 

Diego’s voice came out short and gruff. Not to say that that was atypical of Diego, but Klaus could tell something was different about this shortness and gruffness. Like a lot more was being held back.

“A seizure?” Klaus repeated, his mind trying to comprehend the information. He could tell something wasn’t right. Everything was taking too long.

“That’s what I said.” Diego snapped.

The two of them sat in silence for a moment longer. 

“You could have at least given me mouth to mouth.” Klaus smirked, tried to ignore the roughness of his voice.

Diego didn’t respond. Not even a smile for courtesy’s sake.

“I’ll go get your clothes for you.” Diego finally muttered, refusing to look Klaus in the eyes. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

With sudden tears stinging his eyes, Klaus nodded and focused harder on the ceiling, also refusing to look at his brother. He didn’t trust himself to speak.

Diego cleared his throat, the sound coming out choked. “Okay. And... I think we should go to the hospital.”

Klaus would have put up a fight, but he didn’t have the energy left in him. It took everything he had just to nod again. It took everything in him to bite back a smart remark that if he went to the hospital every time he blacked out or realized there were gaps in his memories, he would spend them right to the poor house. But that would require his brother learning about all the attacks he had in secret and, to forgive the phrase, he would rather die before he let that happen.

When Diego returned with clothes in hand, Klaus’ cheeks flushed at his incompetence as Diego helped guide his arms into the sleeves of his shirt. Feeling sickened by his own helplessness, Klaus tried to stand up on his own, without Diego, but he couldn’t even get himself off the bathroom floor. Instead, his legs shook violently under the pressure. Diego watched, in a limbo state of wanting Klaus to be strong enough to be successful without him and just wanting to put an end to the pathetic show. In the end, Klaus had to admit defeat.

He leaned heavily against Diego’s car when he had gone back to get the keys, which were overlooked in the moment. Klaus reassured Diego over and over again that he would be okay for the 30 seconds it would take to get them, even though he could feel the drain already. Wrapping his arms around his stomach, Klaus waited, silently willing himself to stay standing, but with each passing second it was proving more and more difficult to do so. By the time Diego got back, Klaus could feel himself starting to lose his footing. Luckily, Diego was quick and he was carefully maneuvered into the passenger’s seat. Klaus let him do it, his body already sweating from standing. After jamming the keys into the ignition, Diego turned up the heat and pointed the vents toward him.

He hated how much his body trembled as Diego took off. He hated how his legs burned even though he had only stood a short while. He hated how he could barely keep his eyes open. He hated his fucking brain for turning against him. He hated himself for his cowardness and his inability to be honest. He hated that being honest meant behind vulnerable, and being vulnerable meant that your well being depended on someone else. And he hated that there had never been someone who he trusted that wholly. 

Weakly pulling his coat closer to his body, Klaus watched the lights of the buildings pass by. The little strength he had left was leaving quickly, his adrenaline rapidly being replaced with exhaustion. Diego barked at him, most likely something about not falling asleep, but Klaus’ mind was growing fuzzy and unable to digest what his brother was trying to say. Instead, he watched the street lights bleed into streams of yellow.

A faint warmth grazed across his hand, making Klaus’ breath catch, but it retreated as quickly as it came. Timid, but daring still. Faint enough to be dismissed. A jolt went through him. 

_ Diego _ . 

Something fluttered deep down, the feeling similar to that of a muscle that had never been worked before being discovered after an odd strain. Klaus rolled his head over to his brother, only to find Diego’s gaze focused completely on the road ahead. 

But his hand was still resting next to his. Klaus lazily reached his pinkie out to meet it. Non-committal and easy to back out of.

Until Diego did the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're really starting to get into the thick of things here, folks! As always, you all make my days and I love being able to share with you.
> 
> The song used in this chapter is "On the Regular" by Shamir. I chose it because Robert Sheehan mentioned that this song was stuck in his head during an interview and I thought it would be kind of fun to put that little reference in.


	6. And You Made My Life a Happy One

Klaus didn’t bother to chase after Diego when their returned to the Academy. Their visit to the hospital had been dismal. Words like “grand mal seizure” and “ictal phase” were thrown around, their meaning lost on both of them. Diego, however, was too stubborn to ask questions to things he didn’t understand and Klaus was too defensive to learn what was happening to him, so they both left more confused than when they walked in, but they were both acutely aware that things were getting worse. Diego had yelled at the doctor, and at him a little bit on the way back, but Klaus didn’t take it to heart. Diego always sounded angry when the alternative was sounding scared.

Instead, Klaus watched him storm off, most likely to the sparring area their father had built. Diego had a habit of venting his frustrations out on the poor, innocent punching bag that hung down there. The device was both sturdy and worn, the once bright red had long faded to a dull maroon and patches had been worn off completely from repetitive abuse. In fact, there were many instances in he and his siblings’ childhoods where the methodical thumping of hits landing functioned as a sort of muzak in the background of their lives. A presence that all of them did their best to ignore.

Instead, Klaus made a beeline for his bed and, without taking off anything but his shoes, he slid under the covers and let out a sigh. _ The best way to avoid a situation was to sleep through it,  _ he decided. 

He settled onto his left side and closed his eyes, willing his mind to quiet down. Then he shifted to his right, then his left again. The minutes dragged on and with little progress. Letting out a cry of frustration, Klaus begrudgingly admitted defeat and reached for the knitting by his bed. He always had it within reach, not that he ever made anything useful. In fact, his creations were barely anything more than a mess of knots. He just liked the rhythm. The mindlessness of the strokes. Over, under, over, under. It was predictable. Comforting. And if his body wasn’t going to let him sleep, then he would make it knit.

There was a slight knock on Klaus’ door, expelling him from his thoughts. There was only one person who would knock like that. And that would explain why he hadn’t heard the silent approach in the first place. Vanya.

Klaus set aside his knitting and put on his best facade. “Yeah?”

Vanya slowly peeked through the doorway, “Hey.”

“Hey.” Klaus replied, trying to sound happy, but instead it came out high-pitched, overcompensation making it sound caricaturistic. 

“Um... can I come in for a second?” Vanya pushed on.

“Sure.” Klaus sat up and patted next to him on the bed. “What’s going on?” he asked, knowing full well what the topic of discussion was going to be.

Vanya crossed the short distance and sat on the edge of his bed, the two of them playing eye-contact chicken. Instead of looking at her directly, Klaus watched Vanya as she played with her hands. It was a nervous habit that had developed years ago. Using her thumb, she would rub circles over her knuckles. There was something soothing about it, even from just watching. There was a pattern to it. It was predictable and even Klaus found his own mind calmed if he watched long enough. He had tried doing it himself once, when no one was looking, but nothing can distract the mind like a proper hit, and Klaus had never been one for patience. That was always the first stage though. If whatever was bothering his sister were to continue, Vanya’s hands would search farther still. Up her arms. And she would rub a hand up and down, starting soft and increasing the vigor if whatever was making her anxious wasn’t resolved. She seemed to be doing that more often than not the older they became. With age comes more difficult situations, because the older you become, the less the world holds back.

In a gesture of a brotherly nature, and much unlike him, Klaus gently placed his hand on top of hers, prompting Vanya to stop. It felt foreign. None of his siblings were used to physical contact, let alone an affectionate one. Their father had never been one for physical touch, unless it was in combat, and when you grow up in an environment where it simply isn’t done, you don’t realize how odd that makes something feel. The simple touch alone may as well have been a volt of electricity for the effect it had. However, it was bad enough to watch this nervous dance when he wasn’t the cause, but now that he was, he almost couldn’t stand it. It seemed to have a similar effect on his sister. Timidly, she raised her gaze to meet his.

“Listen.” Vanya started, biting her lip. “I know we don’t usually get into each other’s business, but…”

This. This was the worst feeling in the world. The feeling that someone was about to say something deeply personal and all you can do is brace yourself and pretend that you didn’t know it was coming. Klaus brought his legs closer to his chest, trying to do anything to relieve the nervous energy that was suffocating both of them.

Vanya let out a shaky breath and looked away, aggressively wiping her eyes. She muttered an apology to which Klaus responded with a noncommittal noise. He waited for her to start again, not wanting to be the one to breach the reason she was here. Instead, he let her pull herself back together on her own, the intimacy intimidating him. They didn’t cry in front of each other.

“When Ben died…”

They didn’t talk about Ben either.

“I felt useless. Whenever you all went off on a mission, all I could do was wait and hope you would all come back. I would plead to any force that would listen that you all would make it home. I would watch the news for updates and ask Dad what was going on. And um…” Vanya stopped again. Klaus could feel his hands growing clammy. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck starting to rise as well. He hated where this was going. “I… I really, really can’t lose another brother.” 

It had been years since Ben had died, and the memories still attacked with such ferocity that it felt like his heart would stop. He didn’t want to think about Ben.

“I’m not going to just sit and watch this time.”

Klaus crossed his arms over his chest. Vanya started to go at her nails, picking at them intently. Klaus spared a glance at his own, which were worn down from the same habit.

“I had an idea.” Vanya pushed on. 

_ God this sucked _ .

“And I don’t want you to think I’m trying to tell you what to do or anything, but… how often do you use your abilities?”

“I do not.” Klaus stated firmly, growing defensive at the mention of his powers. “And I won’t.”

Vanya nodded vigorously, as if she could compensate for her words with her body language. “I’m not saying you have to--”

“Then what are you trying to say, Vanya?” Klaus interrupted. He could feel his unease coming out viciously, making his tone more forceful than he wanted. He sighed. “What are you trying to say?” he tried again, adjusting his voice.  _ That was better. _

Vanya quit picking her nails and stiffened, her mind made up. Klaus instantly felt the shift.

“I’m saying that maybe that’s what’s happening, okay? Maybe what’s going on is you have to deal with this, but you aren’t and it’s all just getting trapped in your head.” Vanya was picking up steam now. “And I know you don’t ever say anything about it, and I know your abilities scare the shit out of you, but maybe now they have nowhere to go and it’s starting to hurt you.”

Klaus’ breath caught in his throat.

“And I hate to even bring it up, but it’s all I can think of, Klaus! People our age don’t just get…” Vanya paused, as if she couldn’t bring herself to say “brain tumor,” “get _ this.  _ And why wouldn’t you at least try it? Would trying really be worse than dying?”

As if Vanya forgot to breathe once she got started, she stopped and took a sharp breath. Neither of them said anything for a few moments, letting Vanya’s words hang in the air.

“I’m sorry.” 

“No…” Klaus started carefully. “No, you could right, Vanya.” It was his turn to look away, twisting the edge of his blanket between his fingers. “But I don’t know if I can.”

Vanya nodded softly, hiding the new tears that sprung into her eyes.

“I know.” she replied. “I just had to say it.”

Giving him a brief glance and an apologetic smile, Vanya got off the bed and moved toward the door, leaving Klaus to his reeling thoughts.

“I do love you, Klaus.” Vanya choked, her voice barely more than a whisper. “And I know none of us say it to each other enough, but it’s true. Even if we don’t show it. We all want you to stick around.”

Their father had always talked about courage. The strength it took to face down an enemy. To not turn your back and run when it seemed impossible to beat. He had been willing to sacrifice hours of he and his siblings’ childhood to drill grit, fortitude, and fearlessness into all of them mercilessly. But this was a moment where Klaus really understood that there were different types of bravery. Their father, in all of his training, had neglected the strength of words and the power it took to use them honestly. Vanya may never have been able to bring an enemy to their knees or stop a bullet in its path, but she did know how to create a paralyzing force with her voice, and Klaus was starting to learn to respect that.

“Hey, Vanya.” Klaus called after her. At her name she turned too look back at him, her nervous energy still potent, but her eyes hopeful. “That was badass, and I promise I’ll think about it.”

A peace offering. Klaus could see the relief flooding through his sister’s body and a small smile played on her lips. 

“I’ll do it again if I have to.” she reassured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right from the beginning, I knew that I really wanted Vanya to have an important role in the telling of this story. I feel like Klaus would brush off a lot of things almost everyone had to say, but there is something about Vanya. I think she's a great character and I don't write her very much, so I wanted to give her some space to explore her more.
> 
> Also, as I was writing I realized I needed another chapter to completely share this story, so there is an additional chapter coming!


	7. And There's No Tragedy in That

A jolt ran through Diego, throwing his body into action. His mind, slower to process, lagged behind his limbs as he shot up in bed. It scrambled to understand what was going on. The first thing to register was the pounding of his heart and then the quick, labored breaths he was taking. The next thing that seeped through was that he had shot right up in his bed. With rather intentional thinking, Diego released the pressure in his back and let himself settle into a more comfortable position. After that business was taken care of, Diego carefully remembered that he wasn’t in his room at Al’s. He was back at the Academy. Diego thought he would be used to waking up here again, since he was staying the night so often now with Klaus needing to be looked after, even though Klaus got a sour look on his face every time he realized Diego was staying. It was going to take more than that to drive him away though, which was funny because Diego would never have thought he would fight to stay at the Academy. But still, every morning it took him a few seconds to adjust to his surroundings and the night was no different. 

Then, he scanned the room, which was still dark. He didn’t need to look at a clock to figure out that it was still far from morning. 

_ Maybe a nightmare?  _ Diego reasoned. The air around him was laced with the specific type of fear that follows a jarring dream. The residue of imagined terror that is harder to shake than anything life could conjure. The type of fear that was just as effective on an adult as a child, for in our sleep we are all vulnerable, no matter our age. Diego thought about turning on the lightswitch next to his sorry excuse for a bed, but thought better of it, because he, unlike a child, should be able to distinguish between what was real and what was a prank of the mind. Children turned on the lights. Adults embraced the darkness.

Just as Diego had started to get his heart rate down, it came again. 

_ Clank. _

And he knew  _ that _ wasn’t from any dream.  _ That _ was coming from downstairs.

His knife instantly in hand, Diego slinked out of his bed, making minimal sound as he slid into the hallway. He looked towards Luther and Allison’s rooms and in the back of his mind, he spared a passing thought towards his other siblings. Why didn’t they hear it too? Maybe he should wake someone else up, for back-up. He quickly shook the thought away as if it were poison. The mere idea of asking Luther for help revolted him. Proving to  _ father dearest  _ and all of his siblings that he was indeed “Number 2.” That he couldn’t handle a tiny little “bump in the night” without big ‘ol Number 1 looking after him. No. Asking for help felt more dangerous than investigating alone, so Diego would do it alone. 

His body coiled when the metallic noise rang out again and his breathing stopped. Metal scraping against wood. He could hear someone muttering, or what sounded like muttering. He couldn’t make out any words. All the lights were still off. Not even the beam of a flashlight, which worked in his favor. He wouldn’t have to attack while his eyes adjusted. His grip constricted around the handle of his weapon, gearing up for a fight. Like a snake ready to strike, Diego inched toward the entry, each step meticulously calculated as he closed in.

Sinking below eye level, Diego peered around the corner. He knew that he would be less likely to be seen if he was lower than he should be. Easily missed. Humans rarely looked up or down, so he always tried to make sure his attacks came from one of those directions.

Just barely illuminated by the moonlight, a thin silhouette stood at the kitchen window just above the sink. Rigid. Like a statue it was completely unmoving. The stillness unnerved him. Diego squinted, still trying to figure the intruder out, when he noticed a slight sway. While barely shifting weight from one foot to the other, the mumbling intensified, sending a wave of cold down Diego’s spine. But the voice…

Diego’s eyes about rolled out of his head as he sheathed his knife. He felt like such a dumbass.

“Jesus, Klaus!” Diego chided, flipping on the kitchen light. “You scared the shit out of me.”

Klaus didn’t answer. In fact, he didn’t seem to register Diego’s presence at all. Instead, he just continued to stare blankly ahead. Diego could feel the hairs on the back of his neck starting to rise. 

“Klaus…” Diego started carefully. “What’s--”

“I can’t find the forks.”

Diego blinked in surprise. “The... forks?”

“Yeah. They aren’t here.” 

Perturbed, Diego made his way across the kitchen to the drawer that had held their silverware for years now and opened it slightly so that Klaus could see.  _ How could he not remember? _

Klaus didn’t respond. Instead, he looked into the drawer he had opened and touched the towels inside vacantly. It passed through Diego’s mind that that’s where Mom had used to keep the silverware, until Klaus had gotten into the knives when they were little and had hurt himself. She then moved them to a higher drawer to prevent it from happening again. They had been at their new spot for what was going on fifteen years now. Klaus should know that.

“They wanted a snack.”

“Wait… Who’s ‘they’?” Diego asked, his unease building with the confusion. He couldn’t read Klaus at all. In fact, he felt completely alien, as if all of the little things that made his brother his brother had vanished, leaving a shell behind that he didn’t know how to decipher. “Are you seeing ghosts?”

Klaus seemed to be getting agitated. “No. Ben and Vanya told me to get another fork.”

The mention of Ben make Diego’s blood run cold. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had said his name, especially Klaus. Ben had always had a patience for Klaus that his other siblings, or father, did not possess. When they had all given up on trying to get through to Klaus, Ben was always there, still listening and entertaining. In fact, Ben had stuck with all of them, their father’s attempts to create a competitive nature successful with all of his children but one. Ben had just never been built like that. They had all grieved when Ben had died, but Klaus had taken Ben’s death particularly hard. Luther had Allison. Vanya was used to being alone at this point. Five was gone. Diego had grown to enjoy isolation. Klaus, however, was a social being and more than any of them ever were. None of them had taken his needs on when he needed them most, and the older Diego became, the more he was coming to hating himself for that.

“Klaus,” Diego continued warily, unsure of whether to talk about Ben or not, “Ben’s… I mean... Vanya’s not here.”

Klaus’ frown deepened.

“She’s probably at her apartment.”

“Vanya doesn’t have an apartment.” The edge of Klaus’ lip twitched into the smallest of smiles, but his voice was still monotone. Detached. “We can’t even get one. I looked.”

Klaus’ words brought a memory rushing back to him. Diego remembered when Klaus and Vanya had gone apartment seeking. All of the Hargreeves children had run away from home at some point or other, and multiple times, but this memory always stood out. It stood out because they had gotten so close.

Like strays, Vanya and Klaus had found their way to the local library and used the anonymity public computers provided to do research, little at a time, to compile apartments. Prices, animinities, distance away from the Academy, all of the necessary points of interest when looking to run away. It had been surprisingly through and Diego knew that Vanya had to have been the thinker between the two of them. At 14, Klaus really wasn’t using much of his brain and Vanya had to rely on hers. Diego had always thought that they would have actually made it out if Reginald hadn’t caught on to their secret trips. Because despite having no interest in his children, he did want to own them.

“I lost Rock, Paper, Scissors so I had to get the fork.”

Diego refocused on his brother.

“How long have you been down here?” Diego asked, trying to keep the ball in the air while he tried to figure out what to do.

“I… I don’t know.” Klaus opened the drawer with the towels again. “Have you seen the forks?”

Dread coursed through Diego as the realization hit him. Klaus’ doctor had warned that it was common for people to be confused after a particularly bad seizure. Unsure of where they were, what year it was… And Klaus was making absolutely no sense. Diego had missed a seizure and Klaus had been alone during it. His mind surged back to when he had found Klaus stuck under the bathwater, thrashing. What if he had been alone then? What if he hit his head on something next time and no one was there? What if he was in public and someone took advantage of him in this state? Diego’s breath hitched at even the thought.

“Hey… How about you sit down for a second?” Diego mentally hit at himself when he heard his voice crack. “I can look for them.”

With his eyes glazed, Klaus slowly looked to where Diego was pointing. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration, as if he were trying to process the simple suggestion. Diego watched every move his brother made, his own body tense. The feeling he had was similar to that of when one is suddenly confronted with a wild animal. The actions so off… so unknown and unpredictable that there was no way to read what the next move was going to be. He had no idea what Klaus was going to do next or how he was supposed to act to keep Klaus calm.

When Klaus finally settled, Diego spared a moment to reopened the drawer, the silverware ringing out.

“Shhhhh!” Klaus hissed, “You’re going to wake up Dad!”

_ Fuck fuck fuck fuck  _

He wasn’t ready for this.

“He’s not here, Klaus. He went out for the evening.” Diego lied, not about to mention their father’s truly was, despite how much satisfaction it gave him. Not giving Klaus a chance to ask a follow-up question, Diego raised a fork triumphantly over he head. “Got it!”

Klaus gave a brief nod and stared straight again and chewed distractedly on one of his nails, his focus entirely elsewhere now.

All Diego wanted to do was get him to bed. 

“Klaus…” Diego thought back to his brief training at the police academy. He was told it was always best to use a person’s name as often as possible, whether a subject, witness, or interviewee. According to the most recent psychologists, using a person’s name made them feel grounded. Like a name is a lifeline. It got them to trust you.

He hated to think of Klaus like that. Like Klaus was some random person he found on the street that he needed answers from, but that’s how Diego felt. This person in front of him felt like a stranger.

Diego decided to play along. “We have the fork. Let's take it to Ben and Vanya, okay?” But even pretending that their deceased brother was alive tore at his heart.

Klaus looked mildly confused, but nodded his head and started to stand. Diego helped guide him up the stairs, vigilantly making sure his brother didn’t miss a step or trip in his haze. With less hesitation than he thought he would have, Diego directed Klaus into his own room. If something else was going to happen tonight, he was going to be there. He resolved in that moment that Klaus wasn’t going to be on his own for the attacks ever again, even if that meant they were going to be roommates. 

Luckily, Klaus wasn’t in the headspace to ask too many questions and he slid right under Diego’s covers as if they were his own. Diego discarded the fork with an unnecessary amount of aggression, his anger at his helplessness needing some outlet, and got into bed after his brother, leaving the majority of the sheets for Klaus. Of course he was a bed hog. He readjusted himself so that he fit on the sliver that was left to him and watched his brother’s body rise and fall with his breathing.

He was almost asleep when the bed started vibrating slightly. Klaus was shaking next to him, instantly sending Diego into high alert. 

_ Another seizure _ .  _ No no no no _

Diego couldn’t think of anything worse that could happen, until he heard the crying. Klaus was crying. Diego tentatively placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder without saying a word. Rather than comforting him though, the touch only seemed to make Klaus shake harder. Neither of them spoke until Klaus’ voice came out in a pained whisper.

“I’m sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been SO excited to share this chapter with you all! This is probably one of my favorite chapters of the series. Thank you for all of your comments, views, and kudos. Every one means a lot.
> 
> Also, shoutout to my friend virxil (ao3) for doing writing laps with me, giving me feedback, and pushing me to keep writing.


	8. Love

Diego had moved out of the Academy the second he had gotten the chance. There was absolutely nothing of value to him within those walls. The only thing that place had ever represented was prison. Captivity. A place where he was always watched, and worst of all, a place where he was judged. He had always kept his room barren, devoid of any personality. Where there should have been band posters and trophies, there was chipped paint and used dishes. It was easier to disappear when there was nothing to pack. 

The only thing Diego ever afforded himself was a guitar, which he had saved for months to buy. Their paths crossed after a photo shoot Reginald had organized for his prized Umbrella Academy. He and his siblings had been gussied up that morning in their ridiculous outfits and, Diego could swear, that was the most attention their father ever afforded he and his siblings. Before they left the Academy, their father had buzzed around them, pushing stray locks of hair out of their faces, hovering over Allison as Mom applied her make-up. In a motion that would’ve typically been read as fatherly, he had even straightened out Diego’s mask, but instead, Diego only felt revulsion. 

He had them practice walking in a single file line before they left, stressing that, at the end of the day, the only thing anyone ever had to show for themselves was the perception others had of them. And their father strutted them around as if they were Chanel or Gucci. A symbol of clout. But there must have been something to what he said because his father never saw a day of hardship. No, it was he and his siblings who bore that load. Once he had formed the Umbrella Academy, he had everyone begging for scraps at his dinner table, his children included. 

The red shine had glinted against the sunlight and caught his eye, giving Diego pause, but Diego didn’t spare it a second glance. It wasn’t cool to be interested in something, and he wouldn’t want his siblings to see, and his ambivalent, smug expression was as much a part of his uniform as his mask and suit. It wouldn’t do well to break character. Instead, Diego made a quick mental note of the brand and stole time here and there to research more about it. When he finally saved (and stolen) enough money to finally purchase the guitar, he didn’t know a single thing about how to play it. In his room, he would pluck out random sounds, testing different techniques. The most successful he ever gotten to an actual song was a off-beat version of “London’s Bridge is Falling Down” and just a few lines of “Highway to Hell.” Not even the chords either, just the melody. But he did love every second of it.

Now, Diego looked at it. It still laid against the wall near the door. The headstock peaked from over Klaus’ shoulder. The neck was worn, spots where his fingers had rubbed repeatedly over the years had left shiny impressions between the strings. Although he still didn’t really know how to play it, it was something he could never get rid of. It was one of the few things he ever indulged in and, once Klaus had discovered it, Diego had allowed him to experiment with it too, although he made even worse noise come out of it than Diego did. Smiling fondly at the memory, Diego shifted to look at his brother.

Klaus’ wild curls rested deeply into the pillow Klaus was using. It was the only pillow Diego had, which meant he didn’t get to have his own last night, but it was a sacrifice he was more than willing to make. He could imagine how ridiculous Klaus’ hair would look with he got up, his hair all stuck to one side. 

Maybe his room at the Academy wasn’t so bad.

Rather self-indulgently, Diego readjusted himself so that he was closer to Klaus, telling himself that it was about getting more comfortable. However, Diego’s arm had long fallen asleep underneath Klaus’ head and if it had been about comfort, he would have untangled himself from their position long ago. Instead, his stomach lilted as he felt Klaus’ chest rise and fall softly against him and the light weight of his arm resting on top of his began to burn like an accusation. For a brief moment, he wondered how horrified he would be if Luther or any of their siblings were to walk in. But even then, Diego didn’t think he would move away. In fact, it had rather the opposite effect and Diego wrapped around Klaus’ torso possessively. Besides, Luther had no room to talk.

There was only one thing in the world that would make Diego move, which was Klaus, and he did when he started to wake up. His breath seizing, Diego retreated to the other edge of his bed and waited for Klaus to rouse more. Lazily, Klaus looked over his shoulder at him, his eyelids still heavy with sleep. He spared Diego a brief smile before stretching. Diego couldn’t help but watch Klaus as he did. Diego had always recognized how lithe his brother was, but never how there was a sort of grace to his movements. The way he smoothly transitioned from one action to another, as if a sort of dance. Klaus turned onto his stomach and rested his head on his hands, his elbows propped up, pulling the blankets even further towards him. 

“Morning.” Klaus mumbled groggily.

“Thanks for all the room you gave me last night.” Diego deflected, ignoring the heat rising to his cheeks. “Very generous of you.”

“Come on.” Klaus groaned into his pillow. “I’m sick. You can’t make fun of me.”

“And the blankets.” Diego continued, grinning slightly.

His legs were still captured in the labyrinth of sheets he had created in his sleep. “The hazards of sharing a bed with me, I’m afraid.” Klaus took a brief moment to examine the damage, appearing unimpressed. “I’m not responsible for my actions.”

Diego was about to respond when Klaus sat up and kicked his way out of the blankets, which fell unceremoniously to the floor. Klaus smirked, a smile that only appeared on his face when he was about to say something particularly damning. “Besides, I make up for it, don’t I?”

Diego froze.

“I never pegged you as a physical contact kind of guy, but you’re great at snuggling.” 

Before Diego could stop it, his mouth dropped open. He scavenged around his mind, trying to come up with an excuse or reasonable explanation, but his mind was blind with panic. There had been so many moments in his life where he had had to think quickly, and he had always been able to finesse his way out of various delicate situations, but of course his brain had to shut down now. Completely useless.

“You have to take me on a date if I get out of this.”

Klaus looked vulnerable, but still guarded, as if he were trying to read Diego’s response, which in turn made Diego unsure of how to act. It was still at a point where either of them could back out and call it a joke if the other got defensive. Diego’s approach to tense, and potentially dangerous situations, had always been “full speed ahead,” but this was, by far, the most delicate situation he had ever found himself in.

“ _ When _ you get out of this.”

Klaus feigned a gasp. “Is that a yes?”

Before Deigo could answer, the mood changed. Klaus swayed slightly and he reached a hand out to the wall to try to balance himself, all the playfulness in him gone. “I need to get to the bathroom.” he choked, bringing his hand to his mouth.

Letting his brother lean completely against him, Diego gently, but briskly, guided Klaus to his bathroom. They barely made it to the toilet before the vomiting started. The sour smell instantly assaulted their senses, but Diego didn’t pull away. Instead, he placed a hand on the small of Klaus’ back as he watched helplessly. His brother’s back rippled as wave after wave forced its way through him, until there was nothing left. But even then Klaus’ body wasn’t done and the dry heaving began.

“About last night in the kitchen...”

“Yeah, we really don’t have to talk about that.” Diego cut off. He tried to smile. It felt inauthentic. Forced. “Like, at all.”

“Vanya said that…” Klaus persisted, his hands trembling as he gripped the sides of the toilet seat. “Maybe it’s my abilities. Creating the tumor.”

Diego blanched. He had been thinking it too, but didn’t want to say it. He never said it because he didn’t want to be the one to make his brother realize it. His brother was terrified of the dead. There had been nights long before this where Diego had been with his brother through the night. After he had awoken to the paralyzing sound of Klaus’ night fits, screaming at phantoms only he could see. Now, as he looked at his brother’s pallid frame, his body straining, Diego knew what he wanted to happen. From the moment that thought entered his mind, he wanted Klaus to try, but it wasn’t up to him and he couldn’t ask that of his brother. 

Klaus took a shaky breath.

“Do you swear you’ll take me on a date?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this has for sure been one of the longest weeks I've had in awhile. And I decided to have an anxiety meltdown at work, so that was fun. It's just a time of transition, which always flares up my anxiety, so I just need some time to adjust! 
> 
> Thank you for your responses and I'm glad I have this fic and your feedback for a boost!


	9. Your Brother

_ His body was trying to kill him.  _

_ It took everything he had in him to remember that Diego was sitting beside him, whispering encouragement he could barely hear. When was the last time he wasn’t shaking? Seizures cleverly hidden among the trembles of withdrawal. A wolf among the sheep, but sheep implies docility, so rather a wolf among… some other predator. He couldn’t think of one. (a different type of wolf?) He tried to hold still, because each movement sent fire throughout him, but his body thrashed with minor consideration for the consequences. A mind in pain isn’t a mind that thinks. Delayed gratification is a luxury for the comfortable. The flames licked around him, promising much more to come. Smiling wickedly in anticipation. This is what burning feels like. Like smoke filling the lungs and embers being thrust down the throat. He couldn’t breathe. Smog reached up from within him and clenched around his own neck, a cruel partnership between his body and his mind. But once his breath did return to him, the first thing he said was Diego’s name. His tongue was too big. He was going to choke. His mouth was cotton. Each pulse of his heart ripped him open even more. It was too hot. And why do people always fight to live? In the movies it looks heroic, the fight for life. But maybe victory is in dying. Because he felt like he was dying. Maybe it was okay to die. His heart banged against his chest. A wild animal slamming against its cage. Slashing blindly for release. He and the heart that was betraying him had that in common. They were all there. At one point or another. There would be moments of clarity. A firm grip helping him sit up. Luther. An almost heart-wrenching relief of a cold compress. Allison. A gentle hand replacing the covers he kept throwing off. Vanya. A hand that never let go of his. Diego. Nothing brings a family together like tragedy. He only knew he was crying because Diego was begging him not to. He would stop if he knew why. The shaking of his body. The shock. The dead. He was starting to feel… the others too. The call of his name. A sibling? His withdrawals? A  _ ghost.  _ He didn’t want to open his eyes. He didn’t want to see. Didn’t want to know. If you don’t look, they aren’t real. A screech. Get away get away get away. Don’t touch me. Another touch, it burned. No one’s touching you. That was Five. No, someone’s touching me! Let go! Angry voices radiated around him. Of course they were fighting. There was a ringing in his ears, which already felt like they were being split in two. Pressure. He clawed at his skin, trying to make the itch go away. He could see the phantom shape looming over Diego’s shoulder. It was real. It leaned over in interest, hovering and watching. He was going to die. He had held his breath as long as he could. _

_ The cool rush of injection swept through him. Relief spreading. Gasping. Dragging him under and pulling him to the surface at the same time. Swirling out of control, he could see the way out. His arms aching, he reached out his hand, fingers outstretched. He cannot sink. Kicking. Kicking. The stinging pain dug deeper into his lungs, stripped for air. He was at the end. The light flickered across the surface and he could see. Hazy shapes. Human. Hazy human shapes. A human shape. Diego looked back at him. _

“I’m here.”

_ Then there was air. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been my favorite chapter to write, so I hope you all enjoy it. I love playing around with the physical layout of text and the impact it can have!
> 
> I know I'm a day late, but this weekend has been crazy! I went to a festival and it was some much fun.


	10. Klaus Hargreeves

Diego had seen  _ Trainspotting _ . He knew what detoxing looked like. Anger and misdirected agitation. But unlike Renton’s parents, he wouldn’t leave Klaus alone, and he could handle verbal abuse, especially because he knew Klaus would be non compos mentis, so it wouldn’t actually count. Hallucinations. Baby on the ceiling. Sweating and screaming. Everyone knows that scene, so, by default, everyone knows what it looks like to see someone you love completely break down, right? Diego knew what he was in for. Or at least he thought he was. During their last visit with Dr. Piper, Diego had swiped a CNA’s badge and snuck into the medical room. It only took a bit of searching to locate and steal a couple doses of methadone. He also snuck a brochure about  oligodendrogliomas too.  Diego had done his research and he was going to be prepared.

There have been many groundbreaking milestones achieved in the field of film-making. Special effects can make someone look like they can fly or turn into an alien creature, and it looks completely convincing. CGI can produce things only the mind can imagine. Actors sustain injuries that, in all actuality, would kill a person and can walk away fine. The hero prevails. But nothing fake can ever touch the shock of real life, no matter how great. The world worries about the impact such violence has on those who view it. There is a great concern for the impartiality movie-goers develop from repeat exposure to the wiles of the greatest directors and technologies to date. But the protection of knowing what you are seeing isn’t real carries a profound effect that is so subtle, no one typically realizes it’s there. And no offense to Ewan McGregor and his performance, but he wasn’t his brother. And there was a difference in that to great to measure. 

Diego couldn’t discount films completely, though. They do give one confidence in their ability to experience trauma, before it happens.

Klaus had been completely relocated to Diego’s room by this point. It had only taken a few hours for Klaus to start getting agitated. His dependance on his distractions ran deep. Diego helped him as best he could, letting Klaus pluck at his guitar, mutually participating in conversations making fun of Luther. A few movies had been sprinkled in. With his bed being occupied by Klaus, Diego had found a new home in chair he had dragged from Allison’s room, where he kept watch nightly. 

One night, Klaus wanted to watch  _ Scott Pilgrim vs. the World _ . It was a movie Diego would never have chosen in his life, but it was exactly the kind of movie Klaus would love, although he would concede, reluctantly, that he did enjoy the fighting choreography in the concert scene, but that was about it and he would deny it if anyone asked. Not an hour into the movie, about where Michael Cera throws himself out of a window, Klaus had fallen asleep. Diego could tell because Klaus’ constant commentary had started fizzling down until it stopped all together. When he woke up though… there was a change. He could see Klaus trying to bottle it up. He would disguise his discomfort with a cough, as if he were casually clearing his throat, or a brief scratch, as if motivated by the idleness of his hands. He was trying to keep himself contained, but Klaus had never learned how to lie with his eyes. The pain he was hiding behind his thin smile was screaming for release. And soon enough, it did get out. 

That’s when Diego couldn’t do it anymore. Of course it would fall to him, the guy with the fear of needles, to do the job. His own heart racing, he sprinted for the methadone. He couldn’t hear the words coming out of his mouth as he prepped the syringe. He cursed himself as his hands shook, making it nearly impossible. With a deep breath, and with every ounce of self-discipline in him, he lined up the needle to Klaus’ abused veins as Luther, Allison, Vanya, and Five all held Klaus down. He steeled himself. This was too important to get wrong.

“You g… got him...mm?” Diego stuttered.

“Do it, now!” Luther strained, using both hands to keep Klaus’ arm completely still as he bucked wildly. Allison nodded briskly, putting her weight on his other shoulder. Five and Vanya had his legs, and they were both surprisingly strong. Diego rested his hand on his brother’s upper arm, trying to bring Klaus some semblance of comfort or reassurance.

“What are you waiting for, Diego? Go!”

The effect of the medicine was instant. Klaus gasped, freeing a breath that had been trapped in him, and it was the most beautiful thing Diego had ever heard. He felt his own breathing release at the same time. His brother’s eyes wide, he looked wildly around the room, focusing over Diego’s shoulder briefly, until his gaze fixed on Diego’s. Sweat clung to Klaus’ face as his nostrils flared. Pulling the needle out, Diego cupped his brother’s face and said all he could manage to through the lump in his throat.

“I’m here.”

The scariest moments were when Klaus didn’t move at all. When he was motionless, save the slight rise and fall of his chest and the slow blinking of his glazed eyes. When his pain was silent. Diego always kept himself within reach, touching Klaus in some way so that he knew someone was with him. That he wasn’t alone. And those were the moments Diego mulled over the material he had taken, reading each word as if there were a code to crack. A solution in the sentences that could make him feel more in control of the situation. 

**“The exact cause of these tumors, as well as other types of brain tumors, is unknown.”**

_ Useless. _

**“Those two cells reproduce to create four cells, four cells create eight and so on. This reproduction continues, resulting in a “lump” of abnormal cells; that lump is called a tumor.”**

_ Do they think I’m a five-year-old? This is obvious. _

**“Tumors of the frontal lobe may cause weakness on one side of the body, difficulty walking or seizures. Difficulty remembering very recent occurrences, comments that do not match the current conversation…”**

_They make it sound so objective._ _Devoid of any awareness of the gravity of what they were saying. Just a list._

**“A tumor may recur as a higher-grade tumor; it may contain a greater percentage of anaplastic cells or the tumor may spread into the spinal canal.”**

_ Wait. It can come back? It can come back and come back  _ worse _? _

**“Prognosis is the medical term for a prediction of life expectancy. Keep in mind that these predictions...”**

He had thrown the pamphlet in anger. He didn’t need to read that section, anyway. And he had never seen so many words that said so little in his entire life.

After the first week of nursing Klaus at the Academy, he seemed to be starting to take a turn for the better. He was starting to get restless and having coherent conversations, a few comments shameless enough to make Diego forget how dire Klaus’ situation was. Once he had finally been well enough to try to get out of bed, he insisted he could do it himself. Diego’s heart seized when his brother’s knees buckled almost immediately, and he leaned forward to grab him by the arms to help him stand. Using Diego as leverage, Klaus stood slowly, his legs shaking underneath him, moaning slightly.

“Lean on me more. It’s alright.”

The nights were bad too, but in a different way. Before, Klaus typically slept through the nights, his monsters coming in the morning. Throwing up. Seizures. Headaches. But now, he could barely make it to morning without fits of terror. Klaus had traded in one misery for another, and Diego knew the ghosts were starting to come, even if he wouldn’t say it. The attacks would start off small. Klaus would twitch. His grip on sheets would tighten. But it wouldn’t be long before the hyperventilating would start or he would begin clawing at his ears, whimpering that sometimes turned into crying. Diego would wake him up whenever he could, but the look Klaus gave him when he came out of his fits terrified him. Petrified, his eyes would ricochet around the room until they landed on…  _ something. _ Then he would stare, his face growing white and his eyes unblinking, and they would be lucid. Klaus was always clearest after his nightmares, the film always lifted for a few minutes. And it was always like Diego was registered second, but second to what, Klaus refused to discuss in detail.

“It can hear me.” Klaus had hissed under his breath once. “It can hear me when I talk.”

All of the unknowns were going to destroy him.  _ Was Klaus really seeing a ghost? Brain tumors often resulted in hallucinations. Could these ghosts be hallucinations? How could he tell which were real or not? Was Klaus even able to? Klaus seemed better, but was the tumor going away? Did he just seem better because his detoxing had been so brutal? Was he still just as bad as he had been before? He was still having seizures. He was still had headaches. Were he powers actually the reason for his cancer? What if he still had it after allowing himself to use his power? What if he still had to live his life with a tumor AND the torment of the dead? Was all this worth it? What if… _

_ What if he still died?  _

  
\----------

Klaus hated waiting.

He was still dressed up in those blue gowns they give you at the hospital. Earlier, as the machine had whirred around him, he tried to focus on his breathing; to keep himself grounded and calm as it did what it was supposed to do. For as often as he had his brain scanned, MRI or CT or otherwise, these past months, he still had not been able to conquer the unease that crept over him when he was in enclosed spaces. It was something that had gotten to him since he could remember, and it wasn’t just physical spaces either. The relentless, smothering presence of his father’s eye and expectations drove him to run away the second he could, choosing the streets and strangers’ couches rather than the stability of home. In fact, he often felt trapped by the restraints of his physical body, his mind finding escape through drugs, making him feel detached. The same could be said for his history with relationships, choosing lovers instead of being loved. But all those feelings were starting to change. He wanted a home. He wanted to be sober. He wanted to be loved.

As the light crawled up his body, all he could do was desperately hope, afraid of what it was learning about him, and whether he would be able to ever have those things. 

Now all there was to do was wait. And out there, someone had the answer to the question that was starting to eat him alive.

Across the room, Diego paced back and forth, apparently he had long abandoned the usual seat. He stopped briefly to reread the poster about the effects of smoking on your lungs, the statistics accompanied rather grotesquely with a healthy lung and a blackened one side by side. Every once in awhile, Diego would snatch a pamphlet off the table. So far, Klaus had watched him skim through brochures about proton therapy, pituitary tumors, and a few other ones with long, scary words on them. When Diego thought Klaus wasn’t looking, he had snuck a caregiver’s handbook into his back pocket, but of course Klaus saw it. Klaus watched him casually, his stomach fluttering slightly at the realization that Diego would take helping him so seriously. Or maybe it was just his nerves.

They both practically jumped out of their skin when Dr. Piper knocked.

Klaus gave the obligatory permission and Dr. Piper entered the room, in his arms he held Klaus’ entire life, and that scared him.

“Um…” Klaus cleared his throat, “What are your little papers saying there?” he asked with a tinge of fear.

Dr. Piper wouldn’t look either of them in the eye. “I honestly at a loss for words, Mr. Hargreeves…”

_ Bad start. _

Klaus only dared a moment to look at Diego. The anxiety was made clear in his eyes, even if his face gave nothing away. He stood so stiffly, Klaus wasn’t even sure if his brother was breathing. They both waited, the tension palpable.

“We spent a lot of time reviewing your MRI, getting second opinions. Second, third, and fourth opinions. It’s going away.”

A buzzing picked up in his ears, his mind instantly turning fuzzy. Klaus was scared to believe it. 

“Mr. Hargreeves, it looks like you’re in remission.”

All he could do was look at Diego, his mind still trying to process. His brother looked like a spring coiled too tightly; about to snap at any moment. Klaus was having a hard time containing himself too.

“Now, listen to me. This isn’t a free pass, okay? I still need you to take things carefully. This is a positive sign, yes, but it doesn’t mean it’s gone forever.”

“Yeah, I hear you.” Klaus hurried. “Deal.”

“And you will need to come in a few months to make sure you are still in remission.”

“Got it, doc.”

Dr. Piper shifted his gaze from Klaus to Diego, a knowing smile growing on his face.

“I’ll give you two a minute, but don’t sneak out of here without checking in with me first. I want to set up a follow-up appointment with you before you leave.” He locked eyes with Klaus sternly. “You’re a hard one to pin down.”

“I’m not going anywhere, promise.” Klaus assured.  _ I’m not going to die. _

As Dr. Piper made his exit, a silence fell between he and his brother, neither seeming to know what to say. 

“Diego--” Klaus started, only to be cut off as Diego pulled him into a sudden kiss.

After a moment of shock, Klaus deepened this kiss, relaxing into Diego’s grip, which seemed to only excite Diego more. One of his hands slid down Klaus’ back, making Klaus laugh internally. Diego was a lot of things, but ambiguous was not one of them. One could always tell exactly how his brother was feeling. Emotional control was not one of his strong suits, and he felt every emotion to its fullest extent in the moment he was feeling it. 

Klaus nudged Diego back softly, using his other hand to push the crinkly blue material he was wearing in-between his legs.

“Now, I would usually be really into this, but I still have this gown on and, even though I can make anything work, it is very  _ breezy _ ,” Klaus reached past Diego to grab his pants, “and the fact that you get to be fully clothed feels a little unfair.”

Diego nodded, stepping back from Klaus reluctantly. “I’ll be right outside.”

As the door clicked behind his brother, Klaus slowly weaved into his clothes. He had dedicated so much time in the last few months to the acknowledgement of his premature death, and hadn’t realized how cemented, and maybe mildly accepted, that idea had become. Now, he didn’t quite know how to process the fact that he was going to live. It was everything he wanted, but now that he had it, the concept of having so much time left felt daunting. Slightly threatening, even. Like he now had an obligation to fulfill, and he was acutely aware that he had a history of failing expectations. But all new patterns were solidified with time and, as Klaus was realizing, he had more of that than he ever thought he would again. With resolve, Klaus looked himself over in the small mirror and stepped into the hallway.

He could see Diego sitting in one of the plush chairs in the waiting room, but he wasn’t alone. Klaus’ breath caught in his throat as he noticed the specter hovering over his brother. He identified the feeling immediately. The presence that had been flirting with the edges of his consciousness the last few weeks had fully materialized, and it was a face he never expected to see again. Diego straightened out the moment he saw Klaus step out of the room, completely oblivious to their guest. Upon reading Klaus’ face, Diego’s grin turned into a look of concern and he reached for his hand.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

Klaus knew that there was still much to come. With sobriety would come new challenges. He could already feel the phantoms tugging at his mind and the whispers calling out his name. Throughout him, the familiar pull of anxiety poked at him, feeding into his desire to numb it. There wouldn’t be a corner he turned without worrying about what would be waiting for him on the other side. There wouldn’t be a night where he went to sleep without the fear of the dead calling for him. But as he looked at the spirit in front of him, he couldn’t help but think  _ “but maybe it wasn’t going to be all bad.” _

A smile spread across Klaus’ face. A real one.

Ben smiled back. __

“Yeah.” Klaus brushed his nose against Diego’s. “And I think you owe me a date.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And all the chapter titles create a letter! 
> 
> Another fic completed! Thank you to all of you who have been so supportive throughout the development of this story. I currently have THREE tua wips I am working on, so there will be more to come!
> 
> If any of you want to connect on tumblr, mine is malikai-firelordzuko-flame.tumblr.com. Let me know you're from ao3!
> 
> I did a lot of research for this fic, so I thought it would be appropriate to cite some resources that helped me:
> 
> https://2knaef3o0jpz4ff42k23tr6l-wpengine.netdna-ssl.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/12/oligodendroglioma-oligoastrocytomas.pdf
> 
> https://www.abta.org/about-brain-tumors/brain-tumor-education/publications/

**Author's Note:**

> I am so excited to jump back into the world of The Umbrella Academy and return for a second fic. This entire story is plotted out and I am READY TO WRITE. I plan on trying to post once a week! As always, I love feedback and appreciate the support!


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